


flesh

by indefensibleselfindulgence



Series: variation upon a theme [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Canon Typical Weirdness, Kidnapping, M/M, Other, ish, lying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 05:38:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17380628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indefensibleselfindulgence/pseuds/indefensibleselfindulgence
Summary: Noun: The soft substance consisting of muscle and fat that is found between the skin and bones of an animal or a human.





	flesh

**Author's Note:**

> these are all going to be different lengths and ratings btw
> 
> not beta'd

“Well.” The man smiles. “Always nice to meet the meat.”  
  
He has a nice smile, Martin thinks, like an idiot. Mostly because he's about to be eaten alive by his date, partially because he went on a date with a cannibal and entirely because he can't remember a single Flesh statement in this immediate moment to save his life.

Which he might want to figure out how to do, and soon.  
  
For all of the good Beholding does for him, to him really, he's a little bitter he doesn't work for a power that can defend itself at all.  
  
Well, Elias can defend himself, but something tells him making the nice man, Jon, his name was Jon, cry wouldn't make the day better. Actually, Martin's pretty sure that if Jon had anything to cry about, hearing it would make him gag.  
  
“Do you do this sort of thing often?” Martin asked, at the bar where they met a few hours ago.  
  
“Barely at all.” Jon had said. “Not really into your sort.”  
  
“My sort?” Archivists, he meant. It clicks for Martin now, now that Jon drags a flaying knife over a piece of leather slowly. “You're not gay?”  
  
“Not what I mean,” Jon told him and ordered Martin a drink Martin didn't really want.  
  
Yeah, obviously that's not what he meant.  
  
Jon plies him with drinks, and Martin just goes along with it, because Jon is out of his league and he hasn't touched someone or even talked to someone that wasn't associated with the Institute in years. They stumble- no- Martin stumbles back to his apartment, Jon walks with a steady hand on the back of Martin's neck with a pleasant smile.  
  
Elias is going to send someone, right?  
  
Daisy maybe? Some other secret sniper agent, or whatever it was that she did, to save him from getting eaten, right?  
  
Right?  
  
The rope on his wrists hurts, chafing and rubbing the skin raw. He could try yelling, but he doubts it's going to do him a lot of good.  
  
Think, Martin, think about what hurts the Flesh. Something has to hurt the Flesh. Stop staring that Jon's long fingers and think, for five seconds. He feels sluggish from the alcohol. He tugs on his ropes, and it goes all of nowhere.  
  
Tim was right, his bloody mother was right, he should have been working out for ages.  
  
“Do you-” Martin swallows around nothing and Jon stops sharping the knife, head twisting too smoothly to be human. “Do you kidnap a lot of men?”  
  
“We're in your home.” He says dully. “I restrained you.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“No.” It takes Martin a second to realize what he's answering too.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Don't get illusions of grandeur,” Jon tells him, and again, Martin is left with listening to the knife scrape. “I've shown restraint. A lot of restraint.” Jon lifts the knife up and presses it against his finger. Martin watches it sink into the skin there and for nothing to come out.  
  
“W-When was the last time you ate?” He whispers.  
  
“What year is it?” Jon clearly isn't joking, so Martin tells him, and Jon's eyes close. “Six. Six years ago.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
“Very restrained.”  
  
“Very,” Martin says. “Not to- not to diminish your ah- your achievements. But if you do, the Eye will-”  
  
“The only people scared of the Eye are idiots. Idiots and children.”  
  
“Elias has killed people before.”  
  
“So have I.” Martin believes him.  “I imagine the process won't take too long, even if you're larger than I am.”  
  
“Right, very restrained.” He nods, and Jon nods with him.  
  
“I'm glad you're so understanding. I get migraines when people yell. Very annoying.” There's something about the tiny smile that graces Jon's features that turns Martin's stomach. He was watching his mouth earlier too, in the bar, and now he gets it, dim lighting aside. His mouth is overflowing with teeth- more then the normal row, more than even sharks seem to have.  
  
Teeth as far back as Martin can see.  
  
“Are you going to kill me-”  
  
Jon huffs a laugh.  
  
“I mean, eventually, your heart will give out, either shock or blood loss. But I'm planning on getting into as much of this.” Jon pats his leg, squeezes down on the muscle and fat there. Martin winces. “As I can while you're still kicking.”  
  
“So it's going to hurt-” He swallows again.  
  
“Meat always tastes better when it's scared. At least to me. It gets your muscles tense. Makes the meat bitter.”  
  
Makes Martin bitter, he means.  
  
“Where are you going to start?”  
  
“Mm. I'm blinded with opportunity.” He lifts the knife to his lips, just a little curved, curved enough to catch on his lower lip and show Martin more of the maw and all of the hidden white inside of it. All the way back to his throat. “Maybe start here.”  
  
Jon drags a finger along Martin's torso, a Y-section, he realizes.  
  
“Oh.” His touch is feather light and makes Martin blush. If there was ever a worse time then now for that, Martin couldn't even begin to fathom it.  
  
“Break the skin, crack the ribs open to accommodate, stuff my face with lungs. Or maybe pick something fattier- turn the meat on its side and get at it's back. Or thighs. Thighs are always nice.”  
  
“I'm right here.”  
  
“Of course you are.” He gets on top of him, straddles him, and for a few microseconds, Martin lets himself imagine a normal human named Jon who was still out of his league straddle his lap and kiss him. Grind down on his hips. Touch his face lovingly.  
  
The cold metal of the knife snaps him back to reality.  
  
“Just do it.” He mumbles, trying to defiant and probably failing.  
  
Definitely failing.  
  
He's awake for more of it then he thought he would be. Jon ends up deciding on emptying his chest cavity first. He whispers a prayer under his breath. Martin watches through tear-filled eyes as Jon cracks one of his ribs and sucks the marrow out of it.  
  
At least he looks like he's enjoying it.  
  
When he's done with the bone, he presses his fingers where he held it to his lips, and Martin watches as the bone curls like burning paper until it's something like a flower- or a parody of one. Curled petals and a thin stem made out of his rib.  
  
Jon tucks it behind Martin's ear.  
  
It feels warm.  
  
Wet.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always encouraged and very very very appreciated
> 
> talk[ to me here](http://iamalivenow.tumblr.com/)


End file.
